


Without You Here

by reddish



Series: Storytellers [2]
Category: Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, Masturbation, Smut, Smutlet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-22
Updated: 2013-08-22
Packaged: 2017-12-24 07:13:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/936909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reddish/pseuds/reddish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bonus Chapter for my story, <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/926804/chapters/1801791">"Atrast Vala."</a> Takes place after Chapter 6. </p>
<p>Varric's been turned down, but both he and Rook have been left wanting. Doors down from each other in the Hanged Man, they see to their own needs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Without You Here

Varric leaned his weight against his door to drive it shut, leaving himself in near-total darkness. His left forearm rested heavily against the solid wood as a shuddering breath left him, leaving his body weak.

“Shit,” he hissed, eyes slipping closed as the fresh memories washed over him again.

Hands, firm but tender against his chest, pushing, leading. Lips, tongue, teeth, grazing and claiming and pulling away far too soon. Leaving him wanting. Needing.

Varric drove his fist hard into the door. At least the ache in his hand reduced the growing throb of his groin, if just for a moment. Not long enough. It was never long enough, not around _her._ What she did to him was criminal, dangerous, unthinkable.

And he wanted more. Maker, he wanted more.

Varric threw his coat off his shoulders; it was always too hot in his damned room. Too much haze, too little air.

Who was he kidding?  He knew where his breath had gone.

The memories traveled their fingers down his spine again; his cock responded, becoming increasingly difficult to ignore.

“Not you, too,” Varric sighed through gritted teeth. This had to end.

* * *

Rook leaned back against the door where Varric had stood, taking in a measured, deep breath. The room smelled of him. Or, maybe he just smelled of the Hanged Man. But somehow, the stale smoke and sweat turned into spices on his skin.

Her eyes closed on the exhale, and her chest felt heavy with his absence. He made her feel light, even when she suspected he carried a great burden he refused to share. But that smile, and those lips…

Heat rumbled in her belly and below as she replayed the evening’s events.

Rook shook her head and tried to delay the thoughts. The decision to send him away felt right, at the time. And she still believed it to be the case. Even so, her body was betraying her pride and self-protection. Her own hands became his, revisiting the places that still burned with the ghost of his touch. The fire in his bronze eyes, the determination in his heavy brow and stern jaw … her heart set to racing at their memory.

Her hands slowly traveled the spaces she wished he had touched, taking her memory to fantasy. No, she decided then and there: Conviction was no suitable replacement.

* * *

Varric undid his belt with no ceremony or kindness as he walked to his bed. His hands pulled at the lacing of his breeches, the lessening of the tension against his clothing only an ounce of the relief he required. The throbbing insistence was a painful reminder of his circumstances, of a need that ran deeper than he was willing to explore.

A distraction, then. That’s all it was as he pulled his aching cock from his pants. When his palm glided over the skin of his shaft, he grunted in muffled indulgence because it fulfilled his yearning, not because he thought of her touch. His own firm, warm grip was no proxy for where he longed to find his pleasure, against her, in her. Nor was he imagining the playful sensation of her lips and tongue as his own thumb circled his slick and leaking head.

Varric’s breath hitched and turned to frustrated panting as his paper-thin self-delusions crumpled. The Warden filled his thoughts to bursting, and he just wanted a damned moment of peace. Release was all he sought as his hips bucked against his hand, and the walls of his imagination broke down to let her in. Rook’s hands were on him, her mouth against him, her body around him, driving him, riding him, harder and faster, pushing him toward the urgent, pressing, desperate act of…

Completion.

* * *

Rook’s back arched off of her borrowed bed as her hand roamed over the curled hair between her thighs. She could feel her own pulse, thick and racing deep within herself. The warmth of the blood rush to her core left her with a longing to be filled. For the first time in over two years, Rook had a face, hands, lips, a heated and strong body to put to the desire.

Her hand gently parted her lower lips, finding herself wet and swollen in the aftermath of Varric’s approach. Recalling the urgency with which his hands had gripped her, Rook slowly circled one purposeful, teasing finger around her clit. Envisioning the roughness of his stubble against her cheek and lips, she slid one finger inside herself, seeking the sweet spot that sent fuzzy lightning up her spine. As his tongue filled her mouth, a second finger entered and increased the pressure and drew a moan from her parted, gasping lips. His body against hers, his heart pounding beneath her fingers: These thoughts gave way to pure imagination behind her eyes. Her mind began to race as her hand pushed forward and back, building its own rhythm.

Pleasure quickly overrode her control, and she fell away from the reins. Immediately, her body pushed against the bed and drove up against her own hand in heavy, fluid thrusts. The added sensitivity of her clit against her palm brought a groan between short, choppy breaths accompanying the ever-increasing sensation.

Her fingers were his hand, his mouth, his cock against and inside her, taking her to the edge of orgasm, taunting her, teasing her, drawing her out with a smirk on his damnably handsome face. And when he finally, mercifully brought her to her shivering and forceful finish, she knew they were only just getting started.

* * *

 

Yards apart, two voices gasped, grunted, and sighed in unison. Sweaty, tired bodies fell back to their mattresses; breaths returned to lungs; hearts slowed their beats. One set of tired eyes idly sought dreams that never came, sweet visions of a life where time existed to know another. The other fell quickly, grateful that, if nothing else, he could not be followed into his sleep by yet another ghost of a woman he could never have.


End file.
